


Warm Hands

by SassyGrape



Category: Red Dead Redemption, rdr2 - Fandom
Genre: Charles gets not enough love so here he has it, Comfort, F/M, I'm Serious, M/M, Other, Reader is genderles, Romantic Fluff, Soft Boy Alarm, everybody hates Micah, that boy deserves a lot more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 09:00:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17443865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyGrape/pseuds/SassyGrape
Summary: You are having a bad day at camp and Miss Grimshaw isn't making it any better. Luckily you get to hunt with your secret crush, Charles. It's just fluff. What more do we want from our soft boy?





	1. Get up lazy pants

It was one of those days which made you wonder why you stayed with the group. Nothing particularly bad or annoying had happened – though Micahs' nasty mouth was running all day long, causing you to wish yourself deaf – but you were far beyond bored and that got you irritated. You were the gangs best con artist and quite skilled when it came to handling and repairing guns. But you were told to lay low, not rob and scam people. Nobody ever noticed they'd been robbed by you. It had literally never happened and yet still Dutch didn't allow you to town.   
Dangling you feet down the cliff, named Horseshoe Overlook, on which the group had set up camp you sighed. What a dreadful fate to be stuck here without anything to do, you'd helped with all the work that there was. You longed for somebody clever you could play tricks on. You longed for riding to town, get some other food than Pearsons' stew and canned goods. Hell, even Herr Strauss was allowed to force his disgusting loans onto poor folk – if that wasn't an criminal act, you didn't know any worse.   
You took an angry drag of your cigarette and exhaled the blue smoke, wondering about how this situation would work out in the end. The lot of you had just managed to escape the freezing cold of the Grizzlies, on the run from the law, Pinkertons and whoever wanted to see you dead. For how long would this camp last? Usually you were quite optimistic with your fate, but after all the happenings in and after Blackwater, you weren't so sure if stoic optimism was your best choice for now.   
“Y/N, get up and do some chores, would ya?”   
So Miss Grimshaw had finally found you. She walked up to you, her face a grim grimace. You flinched at the thought of what was about to follow.   
“Do you think I wouldn't notice you avoiding work? Get up, lazy pants.” She grabbed your shirt on the collar and pulled you up – which was quite easy since you didn't put up a fight. Instead you sighed again.   
“Sure... what ya need?”, you asked while following the woman into camp. If it wasn't for the fact that she'd just rip off your face you'd probably tried to hoax her. But you liked your face.  
“If ya ask Mr. Pearson, that drag, he's always in for fresh food. Or ya could-” She cut herself off as she saw Charles strolling around, smoking; he, too, didn't seem to be all too occupied with something useful. That man always caught your eye. So you followed Miss Grimshaws' stare and tried to keep your poker face. Hard enough, Charles was tall and sturdy and muscular and his motherfucking shiny black hair always got your attention, whether you wanted or not. You were gaping. Again. So much for poker face.  
“Mister Smith! Are you on holiday?”, Miss Grimshaw shouted, causing the man to at least stop his walking around. He turned to face the grim woman and noticed you, too, standing there and suffering. “Why ain't ya huntin'? I will never hear the end of it if Pearson doesn't get some fresh deer to skin and cook.”  
You rolled your eyes at that. Everyday deer or rabbit or sometimes really chewy meat of animals you didn't want to know it came from. But you got the point. Charles was the most skilled hunter in the group and almost everyday he brought some game to Pearson. He found animals in spots nobody else could. So it was somehow understandable Miss Grimshaw was angry he wasn't hunting.  
“Thought we got enough for 'couple o' days”, he just said, killing his cigarette. “Why, isn't there?”  
“If we got enough, ya could just sell them furs and whatnot. And take Y/N, I can't stand that sour face anymore.” With that final blow Miss Grimshaw left the two of you standing around, in the middle of the camp. You could hear her criticizing Mary-Beth for sewing too slowly.   
“Guess we're doomed to sell something. Or else she's gonna decapitate us.” You shrugged your shoulders and managed to grin at Charles as you went over to where he stood. “You don't happen to have some of 'em furs or anythin' around?”  
“No. You hunt?” He seemed to examine you in the most unobtrusive way, not staring you down or giving you that this-person-seems-too-clumsy-to-hunt look.   
“Only thing I hunt is compliments.” The moment you said it, you knew you made a fool of yourself. Not the first time, though. Avoiding his gaze, you cleared your throat. “I mean... no. Never hunted before.”  
“Well, I can show you. Come.”  
He sure wasn't a man of many words, but you didn't mind at all. Rather the opposite was the case, you liked how he didn't try to push himself to be the topic of conversations.   
The two of you walked to the horses and you had to restrain yourself from staring at Charles, how gentle he caressed Taimas' head. And that smile as he gave his horse an apple. It was small and sincere and so reassuring. If he ever smiled like that at you, you'd probably just melt away. How you wished he would do so while talking to you.   
It's not that you never talked to Charles – since he was just a part of the gang as you were, you happened to sit by his side at the campfire sometimes, which had led to small conversations about just anything, really. His taste in food, how he found Taima, stuff like that. These nights were always the ones you had fond memories of. Like a warm drink in winter they enlightened every bad day.   
“Y/N, are ya ready?” His soft voice got you back to place and time.   
“Uh... sure.” You hurried to get onto your horse, which you'd named Horse. Just in case you forgot what kind of animal you were riding.   
While adjusting on the saddle, you felt Charles frowning at you and you wished you could just frown back to mock him. But you were not sure if he'd understand that kind of joke you used to pull with your friends back in the days when you were no outlaw.


	2. The weather's your friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunting isn't really your thing, you decide.

“What are we huntin'?”, you wondered aloud, riding at Charles' side. The horses had found a steady pace, relaxing you instantly. How much you had missed riding out!   
“Deer. Maybe we'll find us some rabbits so Pearson will leave us alone.”  
“You don't seem too happy 'bout this.” You threw him a questioning look but didn't get a response so you left it at that. This man needn't be pushed.   
“No, I'm not. This is senseless”, Charles said after a while. He was hardly audible over the sound of the hooves clattering. He glanced over to you, then back on the road. “We don't need no more meat. We got enough. These animals we hunt now? Just to sell 'em? That's disrespectful. We ain't that important to damage nature like that.”   
You were amazed at how passionate his talk was. Never had you seen Charles like that, his deep voice rumbling like thunder at the thought of needless killing. How could someone be such a decent person? How in the world, you wondered, had Charles found his way into that gang? By all means, this man deserved everything good. And not people like racist Micah or lazy Uncle to darken his days.   
“Sure”, was all you could say at that moment, not feeling sure about this hunting trip anymore at all. You felt bad, responsible for his anger. If Grimshaw hadn't seen you, she wouldn't have sent him to kill for the few bucks it'd make. You turned to face Charles, his face neutral again. “Charles?”  
“Hm?” He looked at you. His dark eyes seemed rather cautious than angry.   
“What if, like, I'm a really bad shoot? Really bad. Scaring away all animals around. Pearson couldn't make you responsible for that”, you said, a small grin gracing your lips.   
The man at your side seemed to consider this for a few seconds, then he allowed a knowing smile.   
“I could find all the game in the world, if you're a horrible shoot, prey'll run.”  
“Yes, it would”, you nodded wisely. 

So instead of really hunting anything, you decided to collect herbs while Charles leaned against a tree trunk, softly playing harmonica. He probably thought you wouldn't hear him, but you did. The situation was so odd somehow, so peaceful. Your horses were standing side by side, browsing quietly, sometimes rubbing their heads together.   
You caught yourself thinking that you'd like Charles to do that to you, too. Just being close, feeling each others warmth. Thoughts of lonely people are terrible, you scolded yourself and shook your head.   
Soon the breeze grew into a wild wind and you looked up into the sky.   
“Storm's comin'.” Charles stopped playing and stood up. First raindrops fell to the ground, reminding you of the thin shirt you were wearing. That wouldn't keep you warm in cold rain.   
“Guess so.”   
“Let's ride back to camp, Y/N.”  
“Just a second. I saw some Ginseng and Thyme. Wanna grab that.” You knew Hosea liked to mix different herbs to create some sort of medicine. If nothing else, you could get him these.   
“Okay, but hurry. The wind's rough.”   
“A bit of wind won't hurt me.”  
You heard Charles huff and couldn't help but laugh a bit. As you collected the herbs, your gaze wandered up to the sky. That, indeed, didn't look too good. “Charles, that doesn't look good to me.”  
“You tell me.”  
Was that sarcasm? You turned around, feeling your face redden. Sarcasm or a sloppy flirt? Lord, let it be a flirt, you hoped. The wind started to howl around you, sending goosebumps up your arms. Suddenly it was way colder than before and the black clouds above your heads didn't better the situation. You needed to find a place to get out of that storm and that quick.   
“You're very funny, Mister Smith”, you dared to say playfully.   
“You notice just now?”  
“Sure enough did.” Now you almost had to shout for Charles to hear you. Hastily you packed the herbs into your leather bag and made your way to Horse. Taima seemed very calm while Horse was prancing nervously. You patted its head and whispered comforting compliments into its wiggling ears.  
“We're too far from camp. We'd ride right into that storm.”  
“Sounds tempting.”  
He frowned at you once again. “You're very funny, Y/N.” He mounted his horse and waited until you did the same. As you finally sat on Horse, Charles rode to your side. “Let's search for a place to get out of the weather.”  
“You know a place nearby?”  
“Think I saw some old trading post 'round here”, he said, leading the way.   
While riding behind him, you couldn't believe this was happening. Charles and you were heading to a lonely place, in a storm, where you'd spend the night together, undisturbed by anyone. Your heart hammered in your chest and although the rain felt like ice on your skin, your hands were sweaty. Your guts felt like a tight knot. Would you be bold enough to try your luck with Charles? Would you try to tell him you're attracted to him since you'd seen him punch Micah into his ugly face? That had been such a move. And damn, that had been the most sexy thing you'd witnessed in ages.   
“You good, Y/N?” He had to raise his voice and even that was sexy to you now. Fuck.  
“Sure, how 'bout you?” You told yourself to stay calm, there was no sense in being a emotional and hormonal mess now.   
“It's not far now.”  
“Good.”


	3. In his arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That storm means nothing but a good excuse to spend the night together. And you are more than willing to freeze to death instead to admit you forgot your blanket. And what kind of gentleman would let someone like you shiver in the night? Yes. None.

That trading post sure was no hotel, but it had four halfway solid walls and a roof. When you arrived you were surrounded by rumbling thunder, you even saw some lightnings hit the ground – far away, but still. You wouldn't want to be hit by one. With a swift movement you dismounted your horse and tied it to a tree nearby. Charles did the same, then you took your stuff from the horses backs and hurried into the trading post. Inside it was almost as cold as outside, but at least the place was dry.   
The black haired man managed to get a small fire burning while you put the blankets onto the floor. One on each side of the fire, just to show him you didn't mean any harm – in any way imaginable. Though you loved the idea to sleep right next to him, you wouldn't push it. It just would not feel right. He was quite defenceless in here.   
The two of you sat down by the fire, on your blanket and warmed yourselves on the flames.   
“Lucky me I'm stuck here with you.” You decided to start a conversation and hoped to be able to keep it casual. Still you were painfully aware of how close Charles sat. His arm was almost touching yours, you could even feel the heat radiating from his skin. That wasn't normal, was it?   
“Are you?” He didn't even flinch.   
“Well, I couldn't start a fire that fast.”  
“Can't hunt, can't start a fire...”   
You shot him an angry glance. Until you noticed he roguishly grinned into the fire. Then he looked at you, that grin still on his face. Shadows from the flames danced in his face, highlighting his jawline. “Yes, lucky you.”  
You felt your face heating up and looked away. Your heartbeat sped up, you could feel your palms getting sweaty again.   
“Are you hungry, Y/N?”  
“Why, got some rabbit to cook?” Lucky you, still able to tease. At least something to defend your character and dignity.   
“No, but canned beans.” He pulled two cans out of his bag.   
But you weren't hungry. Not in that way. And beans meant vapors. No, no beans for you. “Thanks, I'm fine”, you declined but got yourself a bottle of whiskey from your bag. “Fancy a drink?”  
Thunder rolled over you, almost causing the building to shackle.   
Charles and you stared at each other, surprised by how fierce that storm was.   
“Sure, won't hurt.” He took the bottle and poured himself a drink, then gave it back to you. You sure needed that after that loud thunder, to calm your nerves. While Charles heated up his food, you took some sips of the drink, observing his every movement. How his dark skin shimmered in the warm light. His strong, big hands holding the can and his cup. His black hair framing his extraordinarily attractive face. Your heart sank. You couldn't do it. This man was meant for someone better. Someone not like you. Your stare came to a halt on the scar on the right side of his face, reaching from his jawline almost halfway up to his eye.   
“How'd you get that scar?”, you asked before you could really think about it.   
“Got it in a fight.” He started eating, a small groan escaping his lips as he'd gulped down his first spoon full of beans. “You sure you don't want any?”  
“No, really. I wouldn't finish a whole can.”  
“Just not a whole can?”   
“We were talkin' 'bout your scar.”  
“You were talkin' 'bout my scar.” Again that small grin. Heat built up in your stomach. “Have some. Here.” He gave you his can and – defeated by your own hunger and words – you ate two spoons full of warm beans. You sighed. Probably you'd been hungry. Thanking him you gave Charles his food back, watching him eat. He was a fast eater, but clean. He didn't spill a single drop or bean. Unlike you. Whenever you were starving and you managed to get food, you just stuffed it into your mouth like a wild animal. Right now, you felt the urge to devour that man at your side – differently, sure, but nonetheless.   
“So, that fight...”  
“You're curious.”  
“Could be worse.”  
“How so?” Provoking glance from Charles and a terribly attractive half-smirk.  
“I could be Micah”, you said, matter-of-factly.   
Charles stared at you for a few seconds, then the two of you started laughing, wheezing even. You felt tears tickle down your cheek as you gasped for air in between your giggles and laughters. And hearing Charles laugh made you even happier. It sounded full, warm and bassy. A sound you could get used to, wrap around you like a blanket.   
“You're right, that's worse.” The man found his composure again and sat up straightly, his back cracking a bit. “So... that scar. You wanna hear 'bout it?”  
“Yes, please.” You took another sip of your whiskey and stared at Charles.   
“I got it from a ram. I was probably … twenty, somethin' like that. Tried to hunt it down, landed a good shot but that thing was fierce. Almost killed me.” He drank from his cup and for a second his eyes locked with yours. Your gaze wandered off to the scar.   
“Lucky you survived”, you finally said, licking your lips, tasting the alcohol.   
“Don't feel so lucky 'bout that.” That was more a mumble then actually meant for you to hear, but you did.   
“What?” Moving closer to the man, you found the courage to take his hand in yours and stare him into his deep, kind eyes. “What you talkin' about?” You'd never seen him in such a gloom.   
“Don't... don't worry about that. Just forget it.” He tried to get away from you. But there was one thing you couldn't stand at all and that was when good people felt bad about themselves. Whenever Arthur started with that, you always jumped at him, telling him all his fine traits and how wonderful he was. So you held onto his hand for dear life, forcing him to look at you.   
“Charles, what exactly do ya mean? Why ain't you lucky?”  
“Y/N, that's nothing to worry about.”  
“Oh but I worry about it! Don't act like you don't matter!” In a second you pushed your face almost into his, locking eyes, your hands still holding his, now even tighter. “You matter. To all of us. You know what, Charles Smith? I'm lucky you're here 'n alive.”  
“How...”  
“I'm not acceptin' any back talk here, Mister.” You leaned back, almost panting, reaching for the whiskey and taking a few gulps. When you finished, you noticed Charles staring at you. “What?”  
“You know you're beautiful when you're angry?”  
Your jaw dropped, thinking you were hearing things, like... Charles telling you you were beautiful. Like that would happen. You couldn't take your eyes off him, smirking and drinking, looking at you. In your head you heard him say beautiful again and again. Your heart raced and you knew your face was all red.   
“So that's how you'll shut your mouth? Gettin' compliments? Thought you hunt 'em?”  
“It's... compliments – from you?” You shook your head in disbelief. “Besides, it takes more to make me shut up.”  
He put down his cup to watch you carefully. “And what would that be?”  
“That's... none of your concern!” You stood up and packed away your stuff, getting ready for the night. “I'm tired.”  
Charles chuckled, sending shivers down your spine, stood up and went to his blanket. The fire crackled silently.  
You laid down on your side so you wouldn't have to face Charles, who rustled around and finally decided to rest, too.   
At least that's what you thought. 

For after a while you started shivering, despite the fire and the blanket on which you were laying. Maybe that was the problem. You weren't covered by anything and the wind howled through the small cracks in the wooden walls. Your teeth clattered and you shoved yourself closer to the fire. That didn't help your legs, though. Nights, when spent being cold, could be a long dread, never ending minutes strung together. You rubbed your arms to keep yourself warm with almost no effect. That, you were sure of it, was the price for being silly around Charles. Karma.   
“You're freezing, Y/N.”  
With a start you turned around to see Charles, squatting halfway behind you, his eyes tired but still worried.   
“Maybe so.” You were too tired and cold to even attempt to flirt or talk back. The only thing you could half-heartedly do was admire his physique.  
“Don't you have another blanket?”  
“No.”  
“Y/N, you're a mess”, Charles whispered under his breath, stood up and came back with his blanket in his arms. Without saying anything, he laid down at your side, pulling the heavy fabric over the two of you.   
That's it, you thought, now my heart's jumpin' outta my chest. Which it didn't, but it felt like that. His warmth, his body, his concern. Facing him, you had to look up to get a glimpse of his face. A weary half-smile graced his lips and you longed to touch his skin.   
“You're a mess, to care for somebody like me like that”, you managed to say, allowing a grin.   
“I know.”  
“I can't beli-”  
But before you could finish your complaint, Charles had put his hand on your cheek, silencing you. Suddenly he wasn't playful or even sarcastic. In his gaze was something different.   
“I meant what I said. You're beautiful, Y/N. No matter if you're angry or not.” His roughened fingers caressed your sensitive skin, causing you to take in a sharp breath. “And don't say anything against that. You're a beautiful, caring person.”   
And suddenly you found your hand on his, feeling his skin and soaking up his warmth. Your mouth went dry as he leaned into you and as his lips met yours you gasped. Instinctively you closed your eyes, diving into his presence, his taste, tangling your fingers with his. He smelled like earth, rain and bonfires, you felt lightheaded and sighed into the ever so soft kiss. Willingly you rolled onto your back so he could crawl onto you, without even breaking contact. You wouldn't want this to end, he was so heavy but comforting on you.   
As you buried your left hand in his thick hair he let out a soft groan, his hot breath brushing over your lips, causing your eyes to flutter open. His face was so close, his eyes closed. It was so unreal. Charles opened his eyes as you started to massage his scalp. With a silent growl he pulled you closer, almost close enough to kiss you again. Instead, he caressed your cheek once again.   
“I've waited for this for...”  
“Ages?”, you smiled fondly.  
“'bout that.” He smiled, placing a soft kiss onto your mouth and one on your forehead.   
“Can't believe this happens”, you mumbled, butterflies going wild in your stomach.   
“Should I stop?”  
“No!” You shook your head, quickly pulling Charles into you, pressing a hot kiss on his lips. “Don't stop.”   
“I won't”, he slowly said, still kissing you.  
He was so soft, so careful, so slow working his lips on yours, leaving you breathless. And wanting for more. Greedily you pulled him closer and opened your mouth a bit. As if he'd just waited for that, Charles conquered your mouth in a heartbeat, sending waves of heat through your body. You groaned into his mouth, felt his smirk as he placed his right hand onto your side, making you squirm under his hot touch. His skin was burning against yours. Suddenly he broke the kiss, leaving you to take deep breaths. He, too, looked heated and everything else but indifferent.  
“Y/N, you're cold as ice.”   
“You're not.” Gosh, how dumb that sounded in your ears.  
“Let's get you warm.” With that, he placed another soft kiss to the corner of your mouth and helped you lay on your side. The next moment he was behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you, putting the blanket over the two of you.   
“I liked kissing you more”, you mumbled, sighing.   
“I did, too.” You felt him nuzzling through your hair and placing a small peck behind your ear. “But I don't wanna you be sick.”  
“You're a sweet man, Charles.”   
He just chuckled into your neck, pulling you closer to his strong body, burying you in his warmth and smell. You snuggled into him.   
“Let's do this more often”, you mumbled, suddenly feeling tired after such a positively stressful situation.   
“Sure.”  
“Goin' huntin' and stuff.”  
“Especially the stuff.”   
Both of you giggled before dozing of, one lovely unit underneath a heavy blanket.   
Outside the storm swirled around leaves, roaring against trees and mountains, but you felt safe and at home. Best day ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do hope this made your day a bit better, if you like it I'd love some Kudos. I'm so not done with some Charles-love. I hope you ain't, too.

**Author's Note:**

> So that's my first X / Reader fic and honestly it was supposed to be a drabble and here we are. Hope you enjoyed that messy thing as much as I did writing it.


End file.
